


Please tell me they don't fly

by floof



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, is this what you call shitposting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floof/pseuds/floof
Summary: The Antivan... Cows?





	Please tell me they don't fly

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing I've written in months and it's the fanfic version of a shit post. And I wrote it back in March. I'm on the ball, clearly.
> 
> An anon on tumblr asked: dragon age au where the antivan cows send their regards. Probably been done before, but here's my take.
> 
> For the record I like Leliana a lot, Mahariel however. Um. Takes awhile to warm up to her.

"He must be from the Antivan Cows!” Leliana smiles over at Mahariel, as if she isn’t covered in blood and other bodily fluids. He’ll never understand her no matter how hard he tries.

“The Antivan… what?” Mahariel stoops down to look at the odd, blond elf who had attacked them earlier. All of his comrades are dead, but this one seems to be still breathing. If a touch shallowly from all the wounds decorating his body.

“The Antivan Cows!” He shouldn’t have said anything. Mahariel can just tell she’s about to go off into one of her – yep, there she goes. Explaining everything. “They’re a group of shadow assassins from Antiva, probably called that because no one expects a cow, you know?”

Mahariel looks at Leliana. Leliana smiles back at him. He snorts and shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

“Actually…” A pained groan comes from near his feet “We’re called that because someone misspelled ‘Crow’ once and it stuck. We do like to spread the lie it’s because of cow patties, however. As lies go, it’s a good one.”

The assassin grins up at them, clutching a wound at his side. “Now, if you’re going to kill me, might I persuade you on another course of action?”

“Oh no, he speaks. No good will come from this, Warden. Mark my words.” Morrigan crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “I say we kill him and be done with it.”

Well, Mahariel’s made it this far by trusting her. He pulls his sword from its sheath.

“Wait wait wait! Don’t be so hasty! I find myself in need of new employment, and you certainly seem capable – and handsome, might I say – So won’t you hear me out?”

Handsome, Huh? Mahariel puts his sword back.

“You’re kidding me. You’re seriously kidding me. We’re not really going to entertain this idea, are we?” Alistair pipes up, and Mahariel sighs. He knew he should’ve brought Sten along, or maybe Dog. As cute as Alistair is, his morals are so damn strange. As well as unbearably human.

Much like Leliana, come to think of it. Probably why Mahariel prefers the company of Morrigan or Sten.

The assassin – Zevran, apparently – speaks his piece, and despite everyone except Leliana’s misgivings, Mahariel gives him a chance. He needs another rogue in the party, and Leliana’s starting to get on his nerves.

At least he won’t have to rely on her to pick locks anymore. Although why he can’t just smash them is beyond him. But no, 'Warden please, we'll draw too much attention!'

_Rogues_. Can't live with them, can't get treasure without them.

~

Zevran, despite his claims to otherwise, is not the picking locks sort of rogue. He’s more of the slitting throats kind. He’s a good kisser, at least.

Morrigan finds the entire thing hilarious, in her own haughty way. Sten, at least from what Mahariel can tell, thinks Mahariel has gone crazy. Or maybe Sten just has indigestion. It's hard to tell with Sten.

However he keeps calling Mahariel 'Kadan' for some reason. Who knew swords were that important to qunari? Seems weird, but whatever.

~

Ten years pass and he’s still with Zevran. Even when he does things like this;

“Well, what do you think?” Zevran opens his arms wide and grins at him, showing off his new duds.

“I think…” Mahariel takes a second look. Then a third. “I think you look like a qunari fetishist.”

The outfit is fine; all black cloth and deep brown leather, metal plating armoring Zevran’s legs and arms. It almost looks… hot. Up until the hood. Where a metal cow skull sits atop Zevran’s head, and what Mahariel guesses are supposed to be wicked looking horns jutting out of the side.

Zevran frowns at him.

“Well, you asked.”

“The Antivan Cows reputation precedes them, and if they’re going to be after me for the rest of my life, I should look the part.”

Mahariel shushes Zevran with kisses. So many kisses. Some are even on his mouth.

He still thinks the whole cow thing is stupid. But it landed him a good guy, so he's not going to complain. Much.

**Author's Note:**

> w e l p


End file.
